After Dark
Page 41
He stepped closer to me, and closer, until he practically stood on top of me. I felt breathless, that near to him. His particular scent—spicy, clean—his towering height and burning stare … completely unnerved me.
“Here,” he said, offering the notebook.
I plucked at the corner. He didn’t let go. Yikes, this felt familiar. Last night, we’d wrestled with the boxed whip for a good five minutes. I was furious then—he was being pushy—but now? Matt held my gaze, his expression simultaneously hungry and vulnerable.
“Go ahead,” he whispered. He released the notebook and I bumped into the wall, clutching it. “Read it.”
“Now?” I swallowed. “You’re … you’re kind of … intimidating me.”
“Yes.” He pinned my shoulder to the wall and cradled my cheek in his palm, which felt cool. My face must have been on fire. “Read it now, with me, or not at all.”
“Okay. Let me—” I shook my purse off my shoulder. It landed with a loud clunk.
“You’re sweating, little bird.” His dark eyes strafed over me. Oh … God. Something about my unease always got Matt hot and bothered. And what the hell? Something about my unease always got me hot and bothered.
“It’s … hot out.” My chest rose and fell deeply as I struggled to calm my heart.
“Here.” With one hand, he unclasped the top three buttons of my blouse. They sprang open. The cool condo air slipped into my cleavage. Matt’s fingers slipped into my cleavage.
“Matt,” I gasped.
“Read,” he said, “before I change my mind.”
Oh sweet Lord … I fumbled with the journal, my pulse leaping and my mind reeling. First entry: exhibitionism. Matt bit the cup of my bra and I quivered. My eyes skimmed over the page. Desire—hot and damp—gathered between my legs. I want to fuck her with an audience … reveal her like a possession …
Shock and strange pleasure made my thighs clench.
To make our most private act a spectacle … why do I need this?
I flipped the page. Matt forced his hand between my clamped legs and groaned when he touched my thong. It was soaked.
Dear God, I knew Matt was kinky, but I had no idea how deep his depravity ran. I love to see Hannah blush … I want to see her at the end of a leash.
Pain. Pleasure. Shame.
I want to take out my anger on her gorgeous body …
I am constantly aching.
“Constantly … aching,” I panted, arching off the wall. I dropped the journal.
“Yes,” he hissed.
I knew the feeling. When we weren’t fighting, and sometimes when we were, I lived with a chronic yearning for his body. The sight of him in anything—a towel, his running clothes, jeans and a T-shirt—had my stomach doing backflips, no matter how often I saw him. And the sight of him in nothing? I moaned at the thought.
“You’re turning me the fuck on,” he said. He pressed my body back into the wall. His erection pushed against my belly.
“Matt, I—” I danced away. Oh, fuck, I wanted to get back between his hard body and that wall. “I’ll be … be right back. I want to show you something.”
I pried off my pumps and dashed to the bedroom. Be brave. Be bold. Later, I could think about Matt’s kink and how much of it actually appealed to me. Right now—I grabbed the black box from our closet—I wanted, needed him to see my willingness to try new things.
My trust in him …
When I got back to the TV room, Matt had removed his shirt. I almost tripped for staring at him. His loose white lounge pants set off the tawny tone of his skin. His arousal was …
Oh so obvious.
And for once, Matt didn’t laugh when he caught me staring.
He wants me to look, I remembered. I gathered a shaky breath and stared at my leisure as I padded up to him, ignoring my embarrassment. This is my future husband. I’m allowed to admire his … body. And what a body it was …
“This again,” he said, accepting the box. With marked impatience, he whisked off the ribbon and overturned the lid. And there was the whip, coiled in its velvet bed. Matt tilted his head and glanced at me. “You’re pale.”
“And?” I shrugged.
He lifted out the whip, dropping the box. With the coiled leather, he tilted up my chin. My eyes widened; my mouth dried.
“Just an observation, little bird.”
He trailed the cord down my throat. I gulped. He nestled it into my cleavage, stared a moment, and then undid another button, exposing the lacy cups of my bra.
He stroked my swelling breasts with the whip. It felt … unkind, rough.
I shivered.
Matt stepped away suddenly, unfurling the whip and watching it trail across the floor.
“For the life of me,” he said, “I can’t guess why you would … give me this.”
His narrowed eyes landed on me.
Because of fucking Katie! I couldn’t say that now, though. Not yet. It would ruin the moment. And we were having a moment, right? The journal … the whip …
I floundered in silence.
“Unless it’s something you’ve been wanting.” He rewound the whip slowly. I focused on his long fingers, his strong hands, working deftly with the plaited cord. “Come.” He strolled toward the office. After a beat, I followed him, staring at his back … his ass.
Goddamn it, he had me all worked up, and he probably knew it.
“Here,” he said, offering the notebook.
I plucked at the corner. He didn’t let go. Yikes, this felt familiar. Last night, we’d wrestled with the boxed whip for a good five minutes. I was furious then—he was being pushy—but now? Matt held my gaze, his expression simultaneously hungry and vulnerable.
“Go ahead,” he whispered. He released the notebook and I bumped into the wall, clutching it. “Read it.”
“Now?” I swallowed. “You’re … you’re kind of … intimidating me.”
“Yes.” He pinned my shoulder to the wall and cradled my cheek in his palm, which felt cool. My face must have been on fire. “Read it now, with me, or not at all.”
“Okay. Let me—” I shook my purse off my shoulder. It landed with a loud clunk.
“You’re sweating, little bird.” His dark eyes strafed over me. Oh … God. Something about my unease always got Matt hot and bothered. And what the hell? Something about my unease always got me hot and bothered.
“It’s … hot out.” My chest rose and fell deeply as I struggled to calm my heart.
“Here.” With one hand, he unclasped the top three buttons of my blouse. They sprang open. The cool condo air slipped into my cleavage. Matt’s fingers slipped into my cleavage.
“Matt,” I gasped.
“Read,” he said, “before I change my mind.”
Oh sweet Lord … I fumbled with the journal, my pulse leaping and my mind reeling. First entry: exhibitionism. Matt bit the cup of my bra and I quivered. My eyes skimmed over the page. Desire—hot and damp—gathered between my legs. I want to fuck her with an audience … reveal her like a possession …
Shock and strange pleasure made my thighs clench.
To make our most private act a spectacle … why do I need this?
I flipped the page. Matt forced his hand between my clamped legs and groaned when he touched my thong. It was soaked.
Dear God, I knew Matt was kinky, but I had no idea how deep his depravity ran. I love to see Hannah blush … I want to see her at the end of a leash.
Pain. Pleasure. Shame.
I want to take out my anger on her gorgeous body …
I am constantly aching.
“Constantly … aching,” I panted, arching off the wall. I dropped the journal.
“Yes,” he hissed.
I knew the feeling. When we weren’t fighting, and sometimes when we were, I lived with a chronic yearning for his body. The sight of him in anything—a towel, his running clothes, jeans and a T-shirt—had my stomach doing backflips, no matter how often I saw him. And the sight of him in nothing? I moaned at the thought.
“You’re turning me the fuck on,” he said. He pressed my body back into the wall. His erection pushed against my belly.
“Matt, I—” I danced away. Oh, fuck, I wanted to get back between his hard body and that wall. “I’ll be … be right back. I want to show you something.”
I pried off my pumps and dashed to the bedroom. Be brave. Be bold. Later, I could think about Matt’s kink and how much of it actually appealed to me. Right now—I grabbed the black box from our closet—I wanted, needed him to see my willingness to try new things.
My trust in him …
When I got back to the TV room, Matt had removed his shirt. I almost tripped for staring at him. His loose white lounge pants set off the tawny tone of his skin. His arousal was …
Oh so obvious.
And for once, Matt didn’t laugh when he caught me staring.
He wants me to look, I remembered. I gathered a shaky breath and stared at my leisure as I padded up to him, ignoring my embarrassment. This is my future husband. I’m allowed to admire his … body. And what a body it was …
“This again,” he said, accepting the box. With marked impatience, he whisked off the ribbon and overturned the lid. And there was the whip, coiled in its velvet bed. Matt tilted his head and glanced at me. “You’re pale.”
“And?” I shrugged.
He lifted out the whip, dropping the box. With the coiled leather, he tilted up my chin. My eyes widened; my mouth dried.
“Just an observation, little bird.”
He trailed the cord down my throat. I gulped. He nestled it into my cleavage, stared a moment, and then undid another button, exposing the lacy cups of my bra.
He stroked my swelling breasts with the whip. It felt … unkind, rough.
I shivered.
Matt stepped away suddenly, unfurling the whip and watching it trail across the floor.
“For the life of me,” he said, “I can’t guess why you would … give me this.”
His narrowed eyes landed on me.
Because of fucking Katie! I couldn’t say that now, though. Not yet. It would ruin the moment. And we were having a moment, right? The journal … the whip …
I floundered in silence.
“Unless it’s something you’ve been wanting.” He rewound the whip slowly. I focused on his long fingers, his strong hands, working deftly with the plaited cord. “Come.” He strolled toward the office. After a beat, I followed him, staring at his back … his ass.
Goddamn it, he had me all worked up, and he probably knew it.
